Vyr leaned forward on the edge of the mattress, body humming with power. “You heard her, Emmitt. Fuck off.”
Emmitt’s face was the color of Vyr’s dragon scales now, and a chuckle bubbled up Vyr’s throat. He flinched at the unfamiliar sound. A chuckle? He hadn’t heard himself laugh in six months of being in shifter prison. Someday he was gonna eat Emmitt. He would laugh then, too.
“It’s your funeral, Princess.”
Riyah gave Vyr her back as she watched Emmitt walk out of the room and slam the metal door behind him. The noise echoed through the room. Well, that was fun, but he still wasn’t going to let her record him.
Vyr ducked his face and ran his hands over his shaved head a few times to try to settle down. The nausea was back, and his organs felt like they were on fire. Riyah telling Emmitt to scram had just been a temporary relief. He was still here, still in the same dire situation. Only halfway through his year-long sentence, and he was losing his dragon too fast. He wasn’t going to be able to save him. That much had become clear when one of his eyes froze with the dragon pupil and color last week. The same had happened to Dark Kane when they killed his dragon. The process was half-done. Fuck. He flinched at another wave of gut-wrenching pain.
“Your eye,” Riyah whispered.
Plastering a smile on his face, he looked up at her. “You think it’ll get me laid when I get out of here?”
Riyah sat slowly into the plastic chair and aimed the camera at him.
Vyr shook his head and ducked his gaze. He couldn’t even look in the mirror. He sure as hell didn’t want video of his dragon dying. He wanted to go out quietly, with his pride intact.
“You need to do this.”
“I don’t need to do anything.”
“Is there volume on the monitors?”
Surprised by her question, he flickered his gaze to her and then back down. “Not when I don’t want there to be.” A quick, empty smile flickered across his face and disappeared before he murmured, “Scared yet?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Not of you, though. For you.”
Vyr frowned. Her voice had stayed steady when she’d said it. “What the fuck is going on? Who are you?”
“I told you. I’m Riyah, the human.”
“What time is it?”
“Why?”
“Are you a vampire?”
“No. I told you, I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah, human.” Softly, he sang, “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you tell everyone.”
“You wanna spill yours first then?”
Touché. “I’m still not doing this.”
Riyah arched an eyebrow, and a red flashing light captured his attention. It was on the camera, but Riyah hadn’t touched it. Hmmm.
With a snarl, he dropped his face in his hands and scrubbed them down. He hadn’t slept well in six months and probably looked like hell. This video would likely be released to the public. “I don’t want my mom to see me like this,” he murmured. “I’m her only kid.”
“I know. Can you state your full name?”
“I said I don’t want to do interviews.”
“Your father has requested this.”
That was a lie. Her voice had faltered. Vyr hated liars. Maybe she was part of the New IESA too, just like all the assholes who came in here and took pieces of his skin, vials of his blood, who operated on him. Maybe she was supposed to play good cop and get him to open up. Well, fuck that. He was dead inside, and no pretty face was going to change that.
Liar, liar, he hated liars. Why couldn’t he read her mind? It pissed him off. Usually, he hated this part of his power. It dumped into everyone’s mind, but right now he wanted it. He wanted to see her intentions because she was mixing him up. And even if his father had sent her? Vyr would still refuse this interview because Damon Daye was the one who had helped put him behind bars. He would feel his father’s betrayal for the rest of his days. Vyr clenched his hands on his knees in a desperate attempt to soothe the sickly, raging dragon in his middle.
“What are your feelings after being here for six months?” she asked, looking down at a clipboard with her pen poised to write notes.
“I don’t have feelings,” Vyr said in a dead voice. “Never did.” He wished he could see what she was writing.
“I’ve read your file and am aware you have had some issues with authority. What can this facility do to make this experience easier on you?”
“You mean what can they do to control me better?”
“Sure.”
Vyr ripped his gaze away from her and didn’t answer. He wasn’t giving them any more ammunition against him.
She tried again in a quieter, softer voice. “If you could have one thing here, for comfort, what would it be?”
Losing his damn mind, he uttered his only wish. “My crew.” His voice broke on the last word. He missed them so fucking bad.
Riyah’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “They’re trying to take your dragon. If you want to say something, request something, ask for help…do it now.”
Help. I’m here to help you, Vyr. Let me help. Clara. Clara. Clara Daye. I’m here because of Clara Daye.
Vyr stared at his arms, stared at the gooseflesh that covered them. He never got cold. Okay. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe this was The Sickening. But that sounded like Riyah’s voice in his head. She was reaching for him. He could feel it. Her chest was heaving now as she stared at him, and her eyes were rimmed with moisture. Please, she mouthed. She arched her eyebrows and nodded.
Mom sent Riyah to him? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had to think. This was that little wisp of hope he’d been craving. She was offering it to him, right? But in here, he couldn’t trust anyone. Not even if she claimed to be sent by his mother. Fuck. Think. She was offering him what? Help how? No one could help him stay steady, stay strong, except…
The Sons of Beasts. His crew.
Vyr swallowed hard and said, “Breaking and entering.”
“What?” she asked.
“Vandalism. Illegal fights.”
Vyr blinked slowly and locked his fiery gaze on the camera. And then he gave an order he hadn’t given in six months. He put the force in his voice that made his crew do what he said. He gave an alpha order to Torren, Nox, Nevada, and Candace. “Come. Here.”
Reaching for the camera with his mind, he turned it off. Riyah was staring at the red light that wasn’t flashing anymore. Her dark eyes were round with shock. With a small gasp, she blinked and looked at him. Her eyes were still wet with unshed tears, but now they were full of confusion.
“You’re not just a mind-reader.” She searched his eyes, chest moving fast with her quickening breath. “Witch,” she said in a rush.
“I’m not a witch.”
She stood quickly and hugged her clipboard to her chest. “I didn’t say you were.”